When the Dead Speak

Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Sam answered the phone on the first ring.

"I'm sorry to be calling in the middle of the night," the voice said.

It was her client. "It's okay. Are you still coming to Chasen Heights?" The voice was in a whisper. Sam had to strain to hear him.

"I'm in town now. I wanted to let you know I would swing by at seven-thirty this morning. Is that too early?"

Sam pulled the covers back and slipped a cotton robe over her pajama short set. "No, no problem. I'll be up."

Sam checked the clock on the nightstand. It was just after three o'clock in the morning. She crept downstairs, cursing herself for not removing the pictures from the hiding place she had stuffed them in after her caper at Preston's. Of all nights Abby had to invite Jake for a slumber party.

Because the door at the foot of the stairs would make too much noise when she slid it open, she walked around to the kitchen and entered the study door across from the gym.

She found the light switch for the track lighting above the bar and gently pushed it up, casting the room in the faintest of light. She quietly pulled out the books where she had placed her client's pictures. They weren't there. Maybe she had the wrong shelf. Maybe the wrong books. She pulled them aside, searching between the encyclopedias and forensic research books.

A voice in the shadows asked, "This what you're looking for?"

Sam screamed, dropping two books to the floor. Jake snapped on the lamp on the end table, the pictures clutched in his hand.

"Just great." She shoved the books back into their slot on the bookshelves and stormed into the kitchen. Jake pulled a CHPD tee shirt on over his gym shorts and hobbled after her, holding his hand to his head.

"You are a piece of art," Sam continued. "Abby nurses you, offers you a place to recuperate, and you thank us by snooping?" She slid onto the stool by the counter and buried her face in her hands, kneading the sleep from her eyes. "I promised my client the utmost in secrecy." She slowly poured out two aspirin on the counter. Jake filled two glasses with water, setting one in front of her, then took a seat on the stool next to her.

"Don't tell me you're blackmailing the governor." Jake winced as he moved his head a little too quickly.

"No." It came out as a painful whisper. "Preston is. Governor Meacham hired me to get the pictures back."

"Hey." Jake wrapped a hand around her right arm and pulled it away from her face. "I'm not the enemy here. Trust me."

"Trust you?" she forced a laugh. "Last time I looked, you had copies of a videotape of me."

"I haven't used them, have I?"

His skin felt warm, almost hot. Maybe he had a fever, maybe she did. She looked into his eyes. There must be something trusting about him if Abby liked him. His hand slid down her arm and clasped her hand, gave it a squeeze. He must have felt the same heat because he let go of her hand and wrapped it around his glass of water.

"You certainly don't give me much of a choice now." Sam downed two aspirins with several gulps of water, then searched through the pictures in the envelope.

"They are all there." Jake popped two aspirins into his mouth and swallowed them dry. "I don't have to know all the sordid details. I'm just curious what Preston wants from Governor Meacham."

Sam glanced at the pictures of two men in compromising poses. It was easy to conclude the two men were in a motel room from the sign by the phone listing extension numbers.

"Preston wants to be governor. He wants Meacham to not seek another term and throw all of his support to Preston. Preston is power hungry."

"Who's the other man in the picture?"

Sam gazed down at the faces in the picture. "I'm surprised you don't recognize Archbishop Simon Carmichael."

Jake shrugged. "I don't really follow the papal circuit." He drank half a glass of water in one long gulp. "What will Preston find when he checks his safe?"

Sam smiled. "Baseball trading cards."

Jake flashed a weary smile. "Good ones?"

"Mickey Mantle, Hank Aaron, among others."

"Those are too good for Preston." Picking up the pictures of Meacham he asked, "Did you notice these were Polaroid pictures?"

"Yes."

"My guess is they are the only copies."

Sam's eyes brightened. "You think so? That's what I had hoped but Preston doesn't seem to be the type not to cover his bases."

"True. But I don't see him walking into a Walgreens and asking to have copies made. He couldn't chance someone seeing these pictures and trying to do his or her own blackmail scam."

"He could have had someone on his payroll make copies."

"One more person who knows is one too many. He would be left with too many people to pay off."

"Or knock off." She swept a hand across the top of her head, lifting a mass of springy hair that she thought must look frightful. "Are you going to tell Frank?"

"Not if I don't have to."

Sam closed her eyes in relief and whispered, "Thanks."